Fort Flourish
by IRiSEaGLes
Summary: A newly turned 11-year-old Hermione Granger makes her first trip to Diagon Alley and finds Flourish and Blotts. What happens when a 10-year-old Draco Malfoy joins her


"Mum, please. Mummy. Mum. Muuuuuummmmmm. PLEEEEEEEEEASE." Her voice was normally considered sweet, but at this moment her parents thought it was anything but. Ever since she received her letter inviting her to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry the following September, her voice seemed to have gone up an octave and has taken a quality that resembled a dying goose. A squeaky, high pitched, dying goose.

A constant, nagging, squeaky, high pitched, dying goose that seemed to just grate on her parents' nerves more and more with each insistent, migraine-inducing, plea.

Hermione Granger was nothing if not persistent. Stubborn to a fault. Once she got something in her ever-growing brain, she wouldn't let go. She would need to know everything about it, and if there were any possible discrepancies, said discrepancy would need to be fixed immediately.

And in her little mind, not knowing every single minute detail of the wizarding world was a slight against her personally.

Even though it was less than a week after her eleventh birthday, the little miss somehow convinced the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts to accompany her family to Diagon Alley, so that she may know everything possible about this brave new world. Chuckling at the similarities between this little witch and herself, Professor Minerva McGonagall agreed to escort her family to Diagon Alley and teach the little girl how she may access it in the future.

At the appointed time of 9 o'clock on the morning of September 29th, Minerva knocked on the door of doctors Griffin and Jean Helene Granger, and little miss Hermione. She was greeted by the bubbly, overly excited, precocious little witch.

"Professor, how long will it take to get to Diagon Alley? Do they have a bookstore? I have already finished 'Hogwarts: A History'. Twice. Are you the head of one of the houses? Which one do you think I will be sorted into? I think I would like to be a Gryffindor. Or maybe a Ravenclaw. I don't see myself as either a Hufflepuff nor a Slytherin."

The elder witch's eyes watched this little girl ask question after question, barely pausing to take a breath. Then she silently prayed that Miss Hermione Granger be sorted anywhere except Gryffindor house. She admired the girl's tenacity but feared for her own sanity. Seven years of this girl in class would be enough, she dreaded what mischief she could concoct if she was in the Noble House of the Lions. She already had those Weasley twins to deal with…

Once escorted into Diagon Alley, taught the pattern to the bricks from the Leaky Cauldron to the Alley, and a wand procured for the young witch, Minerva returned to Hogwarts much worse for wear. It may have only been a short time, but the little girl was trying. A constant chatterbox. Her desire for knowledge was unrelenting. Minerva regretted suggesting that the Grangers procure an owl so that if Hermione had any questions before the start of the next year, that she would be happy to answer.

It was only polite to suggest this for new Muggle families. Never had Minerva had one family respond with questions before.

She doubted it would be the case with the Grangers. She feared daily owls or at least weekly. Maybe she could convince the young witch to write down all her questions and send them monthly. But then, most likely, it would come in the form of a journal full of questions. If that were the case, she would pass it onto the Headmaster to appease this young witch's hunger.

Minerva couldn't deny the light that sprung up in the little witch's eyes as she admired everything around her. The goblins at the bank were intimidating at first, but with a stare from the Deputy Headmistress all was appeased.

The clothing the other witches and wizards donned didn't interest the little girl. She loved the animals, she loved getting her wand, she loved the energy. The magic. It surrounded her and embraced her.

Minerva felt older, and yet younger when she left the family behind. The young girl's enthusiasm was contagious and it brought new life into the veteran witch. Maybe she could handle those twins who ended up in her detention later that day after all.

Hermione's parents watched their only child as she twirled around Diagon Alley like a dancer. They had not seen their daughter so bright, so free, so happy since her first day of primary school. That magic soon diminished as soon as Hermione realized that she was an outcast, that she knew more than any of the other students in her class, and that she was being bullied. There had been many hours spent with a crying little Hermione, and many more in parent-teacher and parent-principal conferences on how to help the little girl make friends and feel safe and comfortable at school.

What they now knew as uncontrolled magical outbursts didn't help with any of her problems at school either.

In the end, it wouldn't matter. Hermione was special. She would be leaving her Muggle life and embrace her life as a witch.

Doctor Jean Helene Granger couldn't be happier for her little girl. She loved watching her daughter grow up into the little lady whose arms were stretched out wide as she spun in circles in the middle of this truly magical alleyway. She had a feeling that watching this would be one of the few times that she would ever see her daughter this full of life. This free. This uninhibited. She knew that her daughter would embrace this new life, and something niggling at the back of her mind said that she would be left behind as her daughter continued to grow.

But that was the double-edged sword of motherhood. The joy of watching this little life that you created grow and prosper. Then leave. Jean Helene never thought it would come at the innocent age of eleven though. She thought she would have more time. She thought that she would be there to see her daughter's first love, her learning to drive an automobile, all those milestones that parents dream of.

Next year, though, she will be away at a special boarding school. In her mind, she believed that it would be like Professor Charles Xavier and that her daughter was one of the future X-Men. She and her husband, the one who introduced her to comics in the first place, discussed how true this was. She was their little superhero. She would be so much more than they expected. They just had to encourage her. They had to let her go.

Jean Helene didn't notice the tear that slid down her cheek until Griffin wiped it away. "There, there love. She will be brilliant. She will do great things. We always knew that. We just didn't know how right we were at the time."

"I know, Griff. I just thought…"

"We will have all those things you want. You'll see her off to her first dance even though it may be in a different way than you expected. You know she will be the belle of any ball. It is a good thing we can afford all the dresses she'll need. I mean, look around love. We'll need to get her a whole new wardrobe." The two look at the other people, the witches and wizards, meandering throughout the stores and around the alley, mostly wearing antiquated fashions including robes and pointy hats. The Muggle family stood out, Griffin in his three-piece suit with matching bow tie and wire-rim spectacles, Jean Helene in a conservative blue-grey shift dress with complimenting navy blazer and pumps. Hermione was running around in a knee-length black watch plaid shift dress over a white blouse. Her white knee-high socks were pristine and black mary jane shoes polished to a shine.

"That is the least of my worries, Griff," she said solemnly. "I just have this feeling…"

"Your mother's intuition perking up again?"

"No. Yes. Maybe. I don't know. And you know how much I despise not knowing something."

"Relax. Let's just enjoy this moment," he consoled, placing a loving arm around his wife.

A piercing, excited squeal echoes through the alley, and the two doctors know immediately that it emanated from their daughter. Running up to her parents, her brown eyes shining and her chestnut curls creating a wake behind her, "Mum! Dad! There's a BOOKSTORE!"

The couple was immediately dragged to their daughter's heaven on earth. Every chance Hermione would get, she would be in a bookstore or the library. Once, when she was four, she ran away only to be found hidden behind a mound of books at her favorite bookstore. Since then, the Grangers always made sure that they were familiar with all the owners, managers, and librarians within any reasonable distance from either their home, work, or Hermione's school. For her eighth birthday, the couple planned a special trip to the library at Cambridge University, their alma mater, complete with a personalized tour by the head librarian.

Their little girl just loved books, and this bookstore would be the beginning of a new realm of books for her to digest with the fervor that only Hermione had. The shelves were precarious at best, the Muggle couple eyeing each row skeptically.

"How do they?"

"I have no idea, Jean. None whatsoever. It must be-"

The two looked at each other and chorused, "Magic."

Smiles brightened their faces as they watched their daughter in her element with a sense of awe. They both knew the magic of love, the day they literally ran into each other turning a corner at Cambridge it was love at first sight. It had taken Griffin three weeks to get Jean Helene to agree to a date with him since she was already in a relationship. A month later, Griffin was packing his VW bus with their best friends and driving to the Whipsnade Tree Cathedral where both their parents were meeting them. One of their friends had been recently ordained and they all were going to surprise Jean Helene with not just a marriage proposal, but her actual marriage.

It had only been a year and a half later when Hermione entered the world and they truly understood the meaning of magic.

Now, looking at her in her element, waving a piece of wood and calling books to her they understand that magic is not just in love, but it is all around everyone. Some people are just more attuned to it. And their beautiful girl is one of those special ones.

Leaving her to her own devices, the couple leaves the store, in search of something as special as she is to them.

Hermione felt at peace for the first time in much of her life. She waves her wand and books fly to her hand. All she does is think it and it seems to happen. She is instantly in love with magic. Almost as much as she is in love with books. Books on magic are just the cherry on top of the ice cream sundae that is her day so far.

In no time, there is a precariously high pile of books next to her and she is hidden in its shadows. Devouring the tome in front of her, the third so far she has read in a matter of hours, she doesn't another small family enter the bookstore.

She doesn't see the little blond boy escape his mother's grasp.

She doesn't see him lurk around corners, trying to avoid her ever-present penetrating gaze.

Draco Malfoy was free of his mum, at least for a little bit. He may not be in his favorite store, Quality Quidditch Supplies, but Flourish and Blotts comes in second. He can hide here. Especially when his mum is busy with her own purchases and all the comments and gossip that comes with being Narcissa Malfoy.

Draco thought he was being what his governesses would call as spoiled brat. His mum would say he is a headstrong child, a true Malfoy. His father would just look down his nose at his son's impish acts and shake his head. In reality, all of the adults knew he was being a boy. Just a mischievous little boy who rarely was ever told no. If he wanted something, usually it was Narcissa who would give in to his every whim - be it a new broom or a pricey book or a double ice cream sundae.

Draco didn't notice the books that were strewn in a pile larger than he was tall as he rounded a corner.

He definitely didn't see the little girl tucked into one of the books that was sitting in the shadow of the pile. He didn't notice the little black mary jane shoe that was sticking out from the pile until it came crashing down.

"OUCH!" came a pained squeal.

"Merlin, I am so sorry. Are you alright? Please don't be hurt," Draco starts digging out the voice from the books that were now splayed out everywhere.

"The books. Oh no, they're ruined!" she cried out.

"Hey, look at me," his grey eyes focused on her deep brown ones. They reminded him of chocolate opals, bright with the fire of multiple dancing colors. "Are you hurt?" She shook her head. "Good. The books can be repaired easily. I can get my mum to do it."

"I have a wand," she said in a meek voice.

He looked at her surprised. Once he regained the composure that was instilled at him from an early age, "You do? Why aren't you at Hogwarts?"

"I missed the cutoff. I just had my birthday a few days ago. I already got my letter though, and today I got my wand."

Those brown eyes mesmerized him, but it didn't slow down his brain. "Want to have some fun? I have this idea, but I might need your wand. Is that-"

Before he could finish the sentence, she handed him the piece of wood. It was vinewood, something that isn't common in the wands. He took it, instantly feeling a slight connection to it. "That's odd. Usually, a wand isn't so, so, accommodating to someone new."

"Maybe it's because it doesn't really know me yet. I mean, I just got it."

Nodding, though not believing her words, he muttered "Reparo" fixing all the damaged books. Then with another swish and flick, the books began to assemble around them. "I thought a book fort would be nice."

She smiled, a sweet honest smile, at the boy. "I'm Hermione. Hermione Granger."

"Draco Malfoy, at your service," he said with a slight bow and a kiss to her outstretched hand. "What were you reading?"

The two settled into the fort, surrounded by books, talking in hushed tones about all the books they both have read. She introduced him to some Muggle authors, people like Steven King and the Bronte sisters. He showed her which of her books were utter rubbish and which ones had actual useful information. He also introduced her to quidditch, "the best sport in the world."

It was hours that the two talked in their little secluded hideaway.

"If you ever want to," he began, "my house has a library. Hundreds of more books than here. And none of them repeated, like all the school books that didn't sell behind the counter."

Her eyes widened exponentially, "You have your own library?"

"Of course. Mother was here buying some books to add to it. As well as the books that will be used next year at Hogwarts. She wants me to get a head start."

"That's… that's… that's just brilliant Draco!" His name slid gracefully from her lips in a way that sent an odd feeling down his spine. "Do you think we could make a book fort, too?"

"As long as we don't use any of the really old or priceless tomes, I don't see why not." He was blushing just a bit. "I didn't ask earlier, because, well it is somewhat presumptuous, but why are you dressed the way you are?"

"Because it is Saturday and I don't want to wear my school uniform," her reply was immediate, with a sense of nonchalance that came from her many, many years of being thought of as a weirdo.

"I mean, why don't you wear robes like the rest of us?" He pointed down to his own attire.

"Oh, I see what you mean. I guess it is because I don't have a wardrobe like yours. For starters," there was a little cheek in her tone, "I don't know if you noticed, but I'm a girl."

He blushed again, "You'll do well in Slytherin."

"I think I would do better in Gryffindor. Or maybe Ravenclaw."

"No," he said with a finality that left no room for question. "You belong in Slytherin. It is the best house, too. I know I'm going to be in there, and I, well…"

"But didn't Slytherin believe only certain people should be taught magic? I don't think I'm what he would consider appropriate to learn magic. See my parents, well," a little shyness crept into her voice, "they're what you would call Muggles."

"You're a Muggle-born? I never would have guessed. But that explains your attire. My friends probably could take you shopping just before school starts. I mean, I wouldn't want you to feel uncomfortable."

"Thanks, I might just take you up on that." She noticed that the lights had dimmed from the time they entered their fort. "I wonder what time it is." Shrugging she continued, "Well it isn't like my parents will think I have run off or anything. They know if I could, I would live in a bookstore."

The kids had no idea that Narcissa Malfoy, upon realizing her precocious son had wandered away - again - while she was talking to Delia Greengrass about having a children's party with other members of the pureblood families, was in the midst of a meltdown. But ladies of the Sacred Twenty-eight did not have a meltdown. But then again, most ladies of the Sacred Twenty-eight did not have the ten-year-old son wander off in Diagon Alley. Again. Merlin, help her when her husband, Lucius, hears about this.

As she was about to leave the bookstore, a couple entered. They were dressed in odd attire; they must be Muggles. Actual Muggles in Diagon Alley. Whatever is this coming to?

She did overhear their discussion on their daughter hiding herself away amist the stacks and stacks of books.

Merlin, if Draco were with her, the scandal that would create!

But knowing her Draco, he might…

"Are you alright," the Muggle woman asked. "You look distressed."

Her voice was calm and soothing. Almost motherly. Like she talks to her Draco. Her Draco that is missing.

"My son… my little boy… wandered off…" She was shocked that the words left her mouth, especially considering the company. And did her voice just crack? What would people say?

"Come now," the man stated, taking her by the arm gently, "we can look together. I'm Dr. Griffin Granger and this is my wife, Dr. Jean Helene Granger. We left our little girl here. Maybe the children are hiding together?"

The audacity of the man! Touching her with his filthy Muggle hands. "What is a doctor? You called yourselves doctors?"

"We tend to people's teeth," Jean Helene said with a poise that stated that she was somewhat in the working upper echelons. "The reason we have the title of doctor is that we went to advanced university. Cambridge actually. We also can do more advanced care, like surgery of the mouth."

"How barbaric," Narcissa explained with a tone of disgust, unaware that she actually said that out loud. "I am Lady Narcissa Malfoy."

The two doctors nodded in some type of understanding. "Aristocracy. We both understand. We actually are part of the on-call team for the Royal Family. We haven't had the need to be called in for the young Princes or Princesses, as of yet, but we understand there is a protocol." He offered her his arm, "I do apologize for touching you earlier, Lady Malfoy. Shall we look for our children together? If I know my Hermione, she will have her nose in a book or talking about books with someone."

Jean Helene looked away from her husband escorting the Lady Malfoy to the shelves to the right of the store and noticed a new pile of books that were not there when she and her husband left their daughter to her own devices.

It looked like a fort. A fort out of books. Something, just something that her daughter and a boy would devise to hide away from their parents.

What would her husband say if it were his baby girl and Lady Malfoy's son in that fort? Maybe she should sit back and just watch the show.


End file.
